Purple Sector…

People are always making sly remarks about this being another KanYe fan site. That, this is not. Truth be told, the guy just goes on a run every few weeks of consistently doing fresh stuff week after week, and we’re all about fresh here on PSDN. That being said, one of my favorite shows on TV, VH1’s Storytellers, is having him on, and here’s a preview, it’s him performing Stronger, and the set looks pretty cool. It’s also one of my favorite jams of his, so peep. Forgive the BS before the vid, I’ve been trying to upload better versions with other players, but to no avail.

Moving on, I’ve got a ShamWow parody a friend emailed me. I won’t go into any further detail, just watch and laugh.

First, the commercial is for Kobe’s new Lo-top kicks, a game or HORSE with Mike Epps, DJ AM, and Mamba himself.

The Air Yeezys AM rocks in the commercial:

And the Quickstrike Yeezers expected to drop March of 09:

Liking the gray ones, and AM’s.

How does one “keep it real”? And How does one keep it fake?

I grew up about 10 minutes north of Boston, in a little, predominantly white and Asian town called Malden, in a housing project across the street from one of the best schools in the state. I attended Private schools through High School, and am enrolled in a private college. I spent every second weekend with my father in his third floor apartment just off Blue Hill Avenue in Dorchester, where, while not the hardened ghetto-esque place like Harlem or Watts, per se, is no sweet place to live and grow.  Going back and forth from one place to another was culture shock every time, and these places are thirty minutes away from one another on the MBTA. The landscape in the Dot was less inviting, there were fewer places to gather, fewer inherently safe places for kids, and hell, even adults to go in the day or night time. The houses were vertical, and any single or two family housewas almost assuredly poorly kept inside and out. The doors and windows were barred; my father had nine bolts and locks on the door to his house. Nine. Police cars took up the good parking spots during rain and snowstorms. We used big, flattened MD 20/20 bottles as bases when we played kickball or baseball in the street. Three of my closest friends in Dorchester, all of whom are either dead or in jail, had at least one parent hooked on some illicit drug. Even my father had his struggles with alcoholism. I don’t know of anyone’s mom or dad who was a manager or mid-to-high ranking worker at a firm, bank, or cushy white collar job. Everyone was in survival mode there, and, from the great lengths of time I spend in areas like it when my mind can take it, still is. Malden was just the opposite. No bars on doors, we used rocks for bases, fewer (visible) addictions in adults, more white-collar jobs, less illegal activity, more inviting landscape. When I told the kids where me and my mom lived, I had to fight to get home that day. Why? I was told I was a sellout, an Oreo, a whiteboy, that I wasn’t real. No kidding I wasn’t real, I was too busy being eight! Ever since then, I’ve had a hard time grasping exactly what ’real” means to most people who invoke it or claim to keep it so.

From what I understand, “keeping it real” is some sort of creed to keep your life immersed in the life you were forced to lead out of the struggle you faced during. To keep true to the habits, worldviews, thought patterns, and desires you formed while doing your time at the bottom of the American Social Totem Pole. Any deviance from said things is looked upon as selling out, being fake, or trying to be like these white boys out here. If that’s the case, where is the line between real and fake? I spent about 30% of my formative years with my father in environments that would breed so-called “real niggas”, and I’m currently enrolled in a Private University, own my own business, so on and so-forth. My style of dress, talk, and self presentation, however, are derived largely from what I learned in “the hood.” However, my vocabulary, worldview, goals and aspirations came from just the opposite influence: my education and upbringing. What would I be? I look like a street kid, walk, talk, dress like, listen to the same music (to an extent), enjoy many of the same activities, places, and things as a street kid. Yet I’ve been told I talk white, and that no “real niggas” would use words like “myriad” or “bricolage.” WTF?! When is the quest to be and/or stay real superceded by the desire to be your own person? When does one lose the cookie cutter and decide to be their own version of themselves?

Furthermore, what is the benefit to being “real”? Does it add years to your life, length to your male organ, money to your checking account? Or does it only serve to keep a bunch of people who happen to share skin tones, ancestry, and socio-economic forces bound together in a negative way? Clearly, I believe it to be the latter. See, while I don’t think they ever had a name for it, staying “real” is as a part of black culture as slavery and Jim Crow. Think of who we would label not real: House Niggas, Michael Jackson, Kanye West, Jay-Z, Cornell West, Bill Cosby. Why? because they’ve developed a common disdain or disapproval for black mainstream culture? Because they made a way for themselves and a select few others out of the poor situations they may have been born into (not the house niggas)? Because they’ve taken their stature as celebrities or public figures to point out some of the shortcomings of the group of people they may not only love, but undeniably belong to? That’s why? Those are the realest things EVAR! My mom is a real nigga. Why? Because she was the second youngest of five children in Albany Georgia, graduated from college two years early, earned two Master’s Degrees early, had children, provided for them, instilled in them a love or learning and a sense of morality, and worked hard for eveything she loved, needed, and wanted to hold dear. That’s real. Outcries against any one person or small group of persons who go against the grain of “real”, simply because it may be ahead of its time, or the harsh truth, or that person’s own vision, is not real, that’s fake, to me. Go ask someone in your neighborhood about any of the people I mentioned, aside from my mom. If they tell you any of them aren’t “real niggas”, do your homework. Look at their quality of life, worldview, sense of morality and individuality. Now duplicate this with ten or so other “real niggas”. Notice a trend? I propose that every one of those real niggas dresses the same, talks the same, listens to the same select few artists, will see the same terrible movies, and probably have eerily similar Facebook statuses. Why? Here’s why, in my opinion. The quest for common personality or identity traits doesn’t do anything to make any of the chasers any better or more quality individuals.  Keeping it real is like joining a cult, of people who frown on innovation, originality, individuality, outspokenness, and anything generally progressive or uplifting in nature. These are the same kind of people who you’ll find wearing wifebeaters and baggy jeans with wallet chains and those annoying skullies with the brims, with dingy, creased white AF1 Lo’s and low-budget knockoff stunna shades at a party. Oh yeah, you’re both real, and a poor excuse for a Shawty-Lo lookalike, you artard.

So, if you want to really keep it real, do yourself a favor: be yourself. Do what you want and need to do on your own terms. No stereotype or strict, rigid set of rules or guidelines ever made anyone any better of a person. And that’s real.

Sorry Shawty-Lo.

Here it is, Hype Williams is at the helm, it’s very well, done. Yeezy stretches the artform yet again. I’m genuinely pumped for this album, almost as much as I am for BP3. But Ye just can’t oust Jay from the top of my list. At least not yet. Here’s the video.

Here are three tracks, Hearltess, Coldest Winter, and my favorite, Robocop.

Play/DL them HERE, HERE, and HERE (In the order they were listed.

Here it is, the VMA version. I HAVE the real version, posting it tomorrow! Eat it up suckas!

That’s right. About a week ago I heard from a quasi relaible source in the Nike-sphere that the Yeezy’s would be limited only to Yeezy’s size 12 and a few for his closest pals. Now Hypebeast is confirming more of the same. Peep this colorway though. And, some Yeezy.

What’s up folks? GVB reported a few days ago that one of the singles off of Jay Yancey’s shelved album Pay Jay had leaked, and that Yeezy had posted the intro track that he had produced for the late great. Rumor has it Stone’s Throw plans to release it in the Fourth Quarter, we can only hope we get it that soon. HERE’s the link to Pay Jay, and HERE for the other track. I’m sure you could find the album out there if you wanted to, but I’ll support the dude. Buuuut, if that’s your thing, I’m sure some sites could tickle your fancy…

Yeezy and Weezy together again. Reunited and it feels so auto-tuned. Get it HERE